


Whatever I Lack, You Make Up

by heizl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Scars, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7130690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heizl/pseuds/heizl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of plotting and planning, Steve manages to safely rescue Bucky from the grasps of Hydra, bringing his lifelong partner back home. After many long months of constant daily struggles, Steve decides to make a bold move and introduce him to the apartment he's been residing in.</p><p>Now, they are forced to come face to face with their fears and learn to accept and move past them with each others support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever I Lack, You Make Up

Drained, the two men hobbled down what appeared to be a seemingly endless hallway in their wrecked state of mind, aged wooden floorboards creaking under their heavy steps until they finally reached the front door to Steve's apartment, key clutched in a clammy palm.  
  


Steve had been residing here in a faux tranquil state for the past two years or so – he had stopped counting at this point, unsure of how much time had _really_ passed – acquainting himself with the surrounding neighbors, making do with relearning how to act as if he had a normal life – not like he could recall having one before – gradually adapting to modern society. However, solitude provoked something reminiscent of despair when he found himself wincing in the darkness of night with a bitter taste in his mouth, lying awake for hours, consumed in his own hectic thought process.  
  


Steve fretted over Bucky's whereabouts _every single day_ , and with a plan of a rescue set in stone, the mission of bringing him back home – the only mission he concerned himself with; Bucky had  _always_  been his one and only mission  – where he knew he _needed_ to be, Steve didn't hesitate for even a second. Finding Bucky was a victory in itself, but validated the strength of their struggles; the soldier refused to believe _anything_ he heard, twisting any and all words into what he saw as a lie, dismissing Steve's claims that they possessed a _history_. Bucky let these delusions surface and locked the truth deep inside with a paralyzing fear of his protection blanket one day fading.  
  


The confession – “I'm _in love_ with you”. Those painfully honest words subconsciously slipped from Bucky's sealed lips only to be met with, “Buck, I love you so much, it's nuts”, promptly eating away at the armored shell he had learned to hide behind.  
  


It was then that his mind-numbing fears disseminated throughout his very being and he was as lost as he was aware, mentally collapsing. Bucky had spent day after day shuddering against Steve in a physically grueling sob, the only action he could act upon, to which Steve supplied continual back strokes, wither it was four in the morning or six in the afternoon, giving those soft kisses to the neck that Bucky had grown to oh so treasure.  
  
  


Now, he was not recovered, he would never completely heal from the decades of debilitating mental trauma he was subjected to. However, that did not stop Steve from bringing Bucky to his quaint, quiet living space, murmuring reassuring nothings when Bucky's body uncontrollably shook at the sight of unfamiliar settings.  
  


“Bucky, you're okay here,” he lulled, leading the troubled man to his cramped bedroom, arm wrapped firm around broad shoulders, “change into something that you can relax in, okay?”  
  


No response emitted from Bucky's chapped, dehydrated lips, Steve receiving that as a sign to back away against his better judgment – Steve right off the bat adapted to his lifelong companion's _new_ habits, picking up on the small actions that agitated him, the attention he would silently beg for, recognizing the hints he allowed him when he needed time to his self. While respecting Bucky's wishes, he could not deny the difficulty, never wishing for a moment to pass by where he wasn't directly by his side; fingers entwined, gaze captured by captivating cobalt.  
  


“I'll make something for dinner. Just let me know when you're done, alright?” He said, grasp on the bronze door handle loosening, pausing. “Do you need help?”  
  


Bucky hastily shook his head, unwashed grimy strands of hair swaying, replying firm, “No.”  
  


“Okay. I'm here if you need me.”  
  


With minimal noise, metal clicked, Bucky left to stand in the dim room, eyes downcast, fingers tensely flexing with flowing anxiety. Loathing the concept of removing any article of clothing from his body ever again, Bucky obliged to the requests if not for his own comfort, and sanity – he'd been wearing the same damn leather vest that was littered in stains for, well, he wasn't even sure anymore. He didn't _want_ to know.  
  


Swiftly, he released the rusted metal clasps and the heavy fabric thumped to the floor, sweat covered skin exposed. Jaw clenched, he peered around unknowingly, eyes settling on Steve's open closet, the length, wide, and depth, enough to walk in. However, his sight was redirected and caught furthermost by something else, by...  
  


He stood before a wall hanging mirror, reflection mockingly glaring back. That _god damn abomination_ he was daily reminded with, showing off, metal distorting the room's settings upon each individually crafted strip. Cautiously bending _his_ arm at the elbow, he grimaced. He was marked, branded for life with a piece of technology that had been used to kill hundreds, thousands, never discriminating against gender or age. But, this wasn't what disturbed him the most.  
  


Eyes traveling up higher until the attention drew across the rough seam between torn flesh and silver; a lengthy discolored keloidal scar lined the unfinished edge, stretched indents surrounding, long since formed – _that_ was what fabricated nightmares.  
  


Stuck in a trance, the seemingly loud creak of the door peaking open became inaudible and Steve's presence, invisible. Frozen in time, he was incapable of acknowledging that nearly half an hour had passed through his clutch.  
  


Steve caught his breath instinctively hitching, biting his tongue. The last time he could recall seeing Bucky shirtless, it must have been the very early forties. He had offered Bucky the option a handful of times prior to draw him a bath or start a soothing hot shower to lose himself in, suggesting his assistance. Every time, Bucky would shoot him down with vigorous denial. He was no longer left puzzled as he saw Bucky gawking at the unwanted past reminder, what he must have been so worried about.  
  


The distress filled the room until you yourself were distraught, drowning in the intensity, gasping for air. His heart ached, chest pooling with emotions he couldn't even begin to apprehend, the complexity years of experience beyond him.  
  


“Buck,” he husked, the brunette's head snapping, doe-eyed in horror.  
  


Eyes fluttering, dark lashes batting against flushed cheeks, Bucky could only whisper, “...Go away.”  
  


With a meager step from the honey blonde, Bucky flinched, his teeth chattering, pale pink lips quivering. “ _Steven_ ,” his voice hardened, Steve instantly disliking the tone, knowing that Bucky would only address him that way when he was pensive. “Don't...”  
  


With no further hesitation, one undersized movement of Steve's legs after another, Bucky was enveloped in a warmth so powerful, he swore glaciers could melt. Scowl plastered across his face, he wriggled in his hold. “Please... don't...”  
  


Without a single question to Bucky's motives, not an ounce of denial to his phobia, Steve nuzzled the tip of his nose into strands of hair, kissing his scalp. He knew this was when Bucky was internally screaming for the support that had always been denied, craving _Steve's_ support.  
  


“Steve...” Bucky's eyes squeezed tight. “No one should see me like _this_ , you – I know you're gonna make me think differently, and I don't know if I even want that.”  
  


“See you like _what_ , Bucky? I won't force you to think anything, you know that."   
  


“It's repulsive. _I'm_ revolting.” he only muttered.   
  


Readjusting their standing positions, Bucky failed to close his mouth as Steve's coarse yet exceptionally soothing fingertips brushed against the field of unevenly raised marks. There was absolutely nothing revolting about Bucky in any sense, wither that be physically speaking or relating to his emotional condition. Seeing him like this didn't disturb him, at least not in the sense of disgust. No, what unnerved him was _feeling_ the pain he experienced, what Hydra did to belittle the strongest man he had ever met, obliterating him from the inside, traveling out.  
  


“Are we both seeing the same person? Because, the man that's standing right in front of me is everything I strive to be. I've always admired him, but now... I just can't seem to keep my eyes off of him – you. I can never keep my eyes off of you, Bucky.”  
  


Gliding across the healed injuries that served as a representation of another finished chapter in their ongoing story, his muscle strained under the minimal pressure, electricity building in waves, shocking down to his very core.  
  


Hand hovering in place, raising goose bumps, Steve worriedly halted. “Does it hurt?”  
  


“No...” Bucky could feel an onset of tears rising to the surface, cursing under wavering breath for being unable to keep a steady composure. “No one's ever touched me there... _I've_ never touched there.”  
  


“ _Oh_ , Buck,” Steve sighed in sympathy, stealing a gentle kiss on the lips before Bucky completely crumpled into him in a hysterical bawl, the remainder of built up emotions from the past seventy, or rather, ninety, years bubbling to the surface before strenuously bursting out. He grasped for leverage, nails straining tightly woven fabric. “What would I ever do without you?”  
  


“What... would _you_ do,” Bucky gasped for air, his speech muffled, _“I_... need you...”  
  


Hands soothingly snaked down the small of Bucky's smooth, strong back, curious fingertips ghosting his spine, the contact of Steve on his skin all-consuming for Bucky, dizzying his senses. “Yeah, and you won't believe how much I need you, have _always_ needed you.”  
  


“Dammit, Steve...” he choked as he shifted all of his weight, sinking into the man that was his anchor, his life line – he _was_ his life. Unable to wash the slate clean of the blood he carried on his hands, brain shattered and scattered and damn near malfunctioning, sudden outbursts of rage from a constant state of panic – Steve accepted him as he was. He accepted _Bucky_ , and Bucky would never be able to understand how such a perfect person came in to existence. No amount of serums in the world could even remotely duplicate the compassion this man carried, the compassion he shared _just_ for Bucky.  
  


“I'm right here, Buck. Let it all out,” Steve murmured, playing with thick chocolate brown locks, his breathing kept at a steady pace but heart thumping against his chest.  
  


With a loud sniffle, Bucky inhaled sharply, voice hoarse. “I'm... never not wearing a shirt again – ”  
  


“And, that's fine. You don't have to,” Steve begun to speak tenderly, “You don't _ever_ have to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, not for me and especially not for anyone else –”  
  


“except around you.” Bucky finished, gingerly peeking up at Steve with bloodshot eyes that were still just as captivating, still as beautiful, his complexion flushed.  
  


Steve held his gaze, mouth agape, dark brows gradually lowering. “ _Except around me_ ,” he echoed, tone dropping to something hardly above a whisper.“You don't need to do that, Buck. Nothing is ever going to change how I see you, how much I admire you,” he placed a soft kiss to Bucky's forehead, eyes coming to a close, “how I _adore_ you.”  
  


“No, I don't _need_ to, but I _want_ to. I told you, you always change my mind, for the better. It's a curse. ” Bucky was ambivalent, the irrational fear that was embedded deep within him that Steve _somehow_ didn't think of him in the same light that Bucky did, lingered around, hesitation coming easy before he muttered a ' _fuck it_ ', blissfully tasting Steve's lush, perfect lips, finding his own breath hitching, worries evaporating as every fiber in his being relished in the euphoria.  
  


Against his mouth, he muttered, “What they did to me, how they destroyed me, yeah. But, I can't keep living in fear forever, it's tiring. You – you've always been there, you've always had my back, you're the only person I know I can trust. Hell, Steve, I always trusted you more than my own _family._ You _are_ my family. You've been risking your _life_ to find me, to save this guy you use to hang with in the olden days who couldn't even remember his own damn name. I don't have anything to hide when I'm around you, Steve. Been trying to allow myself to accept that, get it through my thick skull.” Adding with a half-grin, he chuckled, “Or, would you rather me always be bundled up?”  
  


Remaining silent, Steve took this as the opportunity to pull Bucky in as close as humanly possible, his touch drawing down to brush over ribs, sensitively trailing back up to shoulders, thumb brushing over tingling, chilled skin. Bucky's smile grew wider as he melted into the kiss, Steve reciprocating the action – once, twice, not letting up, and well, Bucky didn't mind, at all. With a moment to breathe, Steve quirked his eyebrows, now being the smartass Bucky remembered him as. “Quite the opposite, actually. Think you're in too much right now.”  
  


“Steve...” Bucky huffed through his nostrils, averting his attention as he felt the heat he always despised creeping up his neck, settling throughout his cheeks, color reddening at an increasingly fast rate. “ _That's_ the only thing you're gonna comment on? After I spill my heart out to you?”  
  


“Buck, you don't _want_ me to comment on that, you know how much of a sap I am. I was _just_ swooning over you. You know I'd go on and on for hours telling you how much I love you, and I don't think you want that.”  
  


“Yeah, you do make a good point there,” Bucky said smug, Steve shaking his head. "I'm only kidding."   
  


“I know, Buck. But,” Steve redirected the conversation, “let's actually bundle you up.” He gestured towards the walk-in closet, adding, “For right now, at least.”  
  


Bucky rewarded Steve with a much deserved eye roll, playfully flicking his ear. “Smooth. Hey, don't you have a dinner to cook or something?”  
  


“Already taken care of. Why, you tryin' to get rid of me?” Steve frowned.  
  


“Nah, why would I _ever_ want to get rid of you?” Bucky snickered.  
  


“Oh yeah, that sounds _real_ sincere.”  
  


“You sayin' I'm not?”  
  


“No, didn't actually say it, I just _implied_ it.”  
  


With another roll of the eyes, he shook his head, “Whatever.” Bucky looped his arms around Steve's neck, their eyes locking, closing the proximity between them, breath hot on the others chin. “You know I never want you to leave.”  
  


“And I never will,” Steve's gentle smile morphed into a mischievous smirk, “but, dinner _is_ getting cold. So, if you could hurry it up,” he mouthed against Bucky's lips, laughing as he instantly pushed him away, crossing his arms with a puff.  
  


“So, are you okay now, then?” Steve prompted a moment later, concern still laced in his tone.  
  


With a sigh, he nodded, “Yeah. I mean, this thing is going to bother me up until the day I die and I'll probably have a thousand more breakdowns, but, I'm a lot better."  
  


"I'll be there if–" "When." Bucky interrupted.   
  


"–when," Steve corrected, "this happens again. I promise you. But, good. That's good to hear."   
 

“Oh, can you still do that in your old age?” Bucky spat out, quirking his eyebrows.  
  


Shocked, Steve gawked at him, “...You're older than me, remember.”  
  


“No, I can't remember anything. _Remember_?” Bucky responded with a chuckle, his laughter contagious as Steve soon found himself breathless, the ridiculousness of their conversations, and relationship all together, catching up.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Fabric sliding and bustling against itself with minimal noise, weight of the mattress shifting, bare-footed pitter patters exiting through the nearly inaudible closing door – Bucky stirred from his slumber, which was hardly worthy of that title. The apartment still being relatively unknown territory, he was kept on edge. As well as the fact that he had been trained to be on guard at every moment; an eye always peeled, ears keen to listen for the slightest of movement. It could be safely said that Bucky was more than a light sleeper.  
  


Shoving his face back down into the soft pillow with a sigh, he figured Steve just needed to get up and move around, do what he nicknamed as Steve's 'midnight stretches'. Resting was not a strong suit for either of them, many nights spent groggily conversing, reminiscing on the good memories they shared, dully tossing and turning, mindlessly wandering around whatever enclosed space they resided in until the crack of dawn.  
  


As heavy lidded eyes fluttered shut, he immediately perked at the sound of suppressed cries emitting from the living room, a deep pool of guilt simultaneously building in the pit of his stomach, skin trickling with an icy scorch of worry. Wrestling with the mix of heavy sheets and plush blankets until they fell from his body, he swung one leg after another to dangle from the side of the bed, striding out of the bedroom with fervor, petrifying the pacing Steve in place as metal and flesh wrapped around him from behind.  
  


Steve nearly choked on his breath, salty tears momentarily halting as did the world around him. “B-Bucky,” Even with Bucky's trained sense of hearing, Steve's voice fell deaf – he could _feel_ the vibrations of words escaping his vocal cords, yet, silence.  
  


“Steve?” he breathed, regretting his quick, thoughtless actions, timidly loosening his hold before needy hands dug into flesh, blunt nails scraping against silver, tugging him back in place. “I'm right here, I'm staying. You're okay.”  
  


Nuzzling his head into the crook of Steve's neck, lips ghosting over damp skin, sobs begun to release with a trembling effect. “Hey, hey. What's wrong?”  
  


Steve harshly exhaled through his stuffed nose, a gentle shake of the head following.  
  


“Come on, you know you can tell me,” he reassured calmly, “It's my turn now to take care of you. Don't worry about me, don't worry about anyone else. Just focus on you.”  
  


Words catching in his throat, voice cracking, he managed to get out,“How can I not worry about you? What they _did_ to you, Buck...”  
  
  
“Is this because of earlier? Steve, you don't gotta worry about that. As long as I'm with you, which I will be, I'm gonna be okay. We'll _both_ be okay.” Bucky's grasp tightened just a bit more, pressing his chest further into the blonde's broad back. “They did some pretty shitty stuff, I know, and hate doesn't even compare to how much I detest those sons of bitches. But, I'm gonna get through it, I know I will, and you're helping. You help me every day. You saw the one thing I didn't want you to see and I didn't attack you – that's a measure of progress, you know. ”  
  


“They _tortured_ you, Buck. Fed you lie after lie, getting their sick kicks off of sending you after me because they knew that would wreck us both. All those times they abused you beyond belief with no remorse...” he rattled off in stupor, Bucky not daring to stop him despite wincing at the mentions, memories briefly flashing by. If Steve needed to talk about this, he'd rather him get it out in the open than allowing it to fester further and build to strengths unmanageable.  
  


He continued, “People would come up to _me_ stating how they couldn't _believe_ what I had to go through, how hard it must've been – waking up and everything you once knew is gone.” Steve sneered at the absurdity of the comments. “But, _you_ had to wake up after _years_ of being confined in a suffocating chamber without a clue of who you were – are – how much time had actually passed on the outside, only to be told the name of your next victim.”  
  


“Steve, it's not a competition,” Bucky commented.  
  


“I know it's not,” Steve said dull, sniffling.  
  


“What happened, happened. There's nothing we can do to change the past.” Bucky stated, truth that he had only now begun to accept.  
  


Angling his head to the best of his abilities, Bucky shifted in response, locking their gaze. Steve's expression grew grave. “But, that doesn't mean I shouldn't have done more. When you fell from the train, I... I don't know. I shouldn't have let you slip, I should have saved you.”  
  


“I'm still alive, Steve. You _have_ saved me.”  
  


“I know you're still alive, Buck... I know,” his voice trailed off. “I don't want you to think I see you as dead, like the rest of the world. I know you're still here. Sometimes, I just think that _maybe_ , we shouldn't have gone into the War.”  
  


“But, we _wanted_ to, needed to, and we did. We both knew the risks. When I left, don't you even think for a second that I didn't want to come right back, that I was terrified I'd never see you again. Certain I wouldn't.”  
  


“Yeah, but Bucky,” Steve let out a long, unsteady, deep breath, “you're what I won't risk. I'll risk everything _for_ you, but not you, never you. I knew there were high chances that we'd never come home, that I'd never even make it to you in the first place, but... I – I can't go down that same path and _actually_ lose you this time. You're everything to me. Call me selfish, but I need you, all to myself.”  
  


“You _are_ selfish.”  
  


“Bucky...” Steve huffed. “You're such a jerk.”  
  


With a soft chuckle, Bucky mustered his best smile, “Yeah, well, you're a punk. You _said_ to call you selfish.” Voice growing low, hushed, Bucky tried to speak in a way that he knew would calm Steve's racing thoughts, “I already told you, you aren't gonna lose me. No, I can't make promises, and even if I did, they'd be empty ones, but... I'll do everything in my right mind to be with you. You're everything to me too. You took a huge risk to find me, and hey, that worked out, did it not?”  
  


Clearly the change in tone caused no effect as Steve continued in sorrow, “Yeah, but the possibility of a negative outcome was massive, I wasn't thinking straight. I almost lost you then and there, Buck. No matter how much I plan, how much I hide behind that shield, I'll _never_ be enough for you.”  
  


“No,” Bucky spoke firm. Steve appeared comfortable in his own skin, but much like himself, he was unbelievably self conscious, fueled by doubt. “Don't you even dare try that, Steven, unless you want a good whack. Seriously. You are _so_ much, and I can't even begin to understand how I got so lucky. You are _everything_ I need, and more, you have to understand that.”  
  


“...do you? _Do_ you need me?”  
  


One diminutive step backwards, Bucky briskly moved before Steve had the slightest chance to react, heavy-handedly slapping his exposed forearm.  
  


“Hey!” Steve yelped, skin blotching red on impact.  
  


“Next time it won't be so soft. _Stop it._ ” Bucky demanded in a low growl. “If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here right now, might not even be alive. The first time I saw you, I didn't recognize you physically, but I remembered. I knew how I felt about you, even through the brainwashing reruns. I made that my real mission, returning to you. Going back _home_. And that, _that_ was a risk. I didn't have a clue if you felt that way about me, and I had no idea how I'd go about getting back to you,” With a gentle breath, he continued, “Look, I wouldn't be standing here with the idiot I love in his apartment if it weren't for you. No gun fire, no fights, no _good_ or _bad_. I'm just here with you, creating memories that I'll be able to retain for once. You pulled me out of my irrational fear, now I'll get you out of yours. It's not illogical like mine, but, you just need to listen and trust me.”  
  


“It wasn't irrational. No part of you is. Bucky, you know I trust you...” Loose tears begun to dampen his cheeks once more, eyes downcast. Bucky sucked in his lower lip, embracing the remotely taller man. The act of comfort was a skill that had been eradicated from his brain, deemed as something unnecessary for a cold blooded soldier. That didn't stop Bucky from trying his damn best when Steve needed him though. However, the roles had always been reversed, Steve being slightly more put together out of the two, at least in this era.  
  


“Then listen to me.” Bucky lulled, metal fingers dancing through short hair.  
  


After what had seemed like an eternity, Steve calmed enough to break the painful silence, “You love me?” adding, “Even though I'm an idiot?”  
  


Nonchalantly rolling his eyes, Bucky nodded, “Yeah, cause you're _my_ idiot.” With a hand snaking down to trace across Steve's sharp jawline, he pulled him into a kiss, struggling to convey the endearment he held for this man. “I love you so much, Steve. Really. I know I don't say it enough, I'm sorry.”  
  


Hands planting themselves on Bucky's hips, Steve made no immediate attempt to break the blissful intimacy, trailing to litter his cheeks in small pecks. “I think I say it too much, honestly.”  
  


“That could be the _only_ thing you say and I'd never get sick of it.” Bucky admitted.  
  


“Is that a challenge?” Steve met his eyes, brow raising, the brunette chuckling, the mood lightheartedly shifting.  
  


“Yeah, if you want me to constantly feel like a giddy high-schooler with a crush on the popular kid, sure.”  
  


“ _Did_ you have a crush on me in high school, Buck?” Steve questioned, clearly amused.  
  


“Do you even need to ask? You weren't the popular one though. That was me.” he said plain, getting a laugh out of Steve who nodded in agreement. “Didn't know that's what I was feeling at the time, but yes, definitely.”  
  


“Even though I was as thin as a stick and couldn't go into a library without wheezing?”  
  


Bucky shrugged. “What can I say, I have a thing for weaklings.”  
  


Steve scoffed, “Guess that's changed now, huh.”  
  


“Are you saying you're stronger than me, Rogers?” Bucky's eyes narrowed. “I hope that smack hurt.”  
  


“Once again, I did not say it. I'm only _implying_ it.” he remarked cockily with a kiss to the forehead, “And no, it didn't.”  
  


“You're something else,” Bucky breathed in mock exasperation.  
  


“I love you.” Steve cooed.  
  


“Huh, would you look at that. I'm sick of it,” Steve shook as a bout of laughter struck, Bucky grinning at the hard to come by sight. Seeing Steve like that, finding peace and happiness and enjoying himself in these hellish times, never ceased to warm his heart. He couldn't help but cherish him just a bit more when he showed off that magnificent smile. As he dwindled down, Bucky's smile faded, tone of his voice growing solemn, “You feeling better now?”  
  


“Yes. Thank you, Bucky.” his tone sincere and eyes grateful. Bucky was mesmerized as he caught himself staring at the other man, studying his features, not like he didn't already know his face like the back of his hand. Feeling Steve press against him, mouth enticing, that was when he allowed himself to tear his gaze away for a quarter of a second, cupping the back of his neck.  
  


“Do you want to go back to bed and try to get some rest?” he whispered.  
  


“If that means I get to lay next to you and hold you in my arms until the sun comes up, then, always.” Steve pressed their foreheads together, hand blindly searching for Bucky's.  
  


“Yeah, _definitely_ a sap,” he giggled, fingers intertwining.  
  


“Oh, you love it.”  
  


Pinching Steve's cheek, he grinned, “Almost as much as I love you.”  
  


“I mean, considering it's a _part_ of me, I'd figure as much.” Steve teased.  
  


Expression resolute, his head shook, “You really haven't changed a bit, you know that?”  
  


“Neither have you, Buck.”  
  


“Oh, yeah, right,” Bucky sneered.  
  


“Really.”  
  


Bucky sighed, yet this wasn't something of annoyance but rather, contentment. Burying his head into Steve's shoulder, he muttered, “...you make me speechless.”  
  


“You, not talking? That's a first.” he snickered.  
  


“Then again, why do I put up with you?”  
  


“'Cause of my charming good looks? ”  
  


“Well, you aren't wrong.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Steve had only a remote clue of the time when lustrous golden orange peeked through blinds, casting striped shadows among the floor, irradiating the room. Arm stretched around Bucky's shoulders, pulling him in as tight, as close, as was physically allowed, his head rested upon Steve's muscular chest. He watched as his eyes begun to droop, struggling to stay awake, on the verge of giving in to the seductive promise of sleep. As they fluttered shut, Steve found himself smiling.  
  


“I love you, Buck,” he murmured.  
  


“Love you too, Steve,” Bucky breathed in a drowsy response.  
  


Forcing his own body into some subpar state of relaxation, he took ease in the comfort of Bucky being there right beside him, how he would drift into his most vulnerable state without hesitation, trusting Steve with his life as he would time and time again.  
  


“Goodnight,” Steve husked.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This story was supposed to be quite short and I had planned to finish it well, quite a while ago, but that clearly didn't happen. 
> 
> I want to give a special thanks to all my friends that put up with me constantly talking about Marvel and spamming them with story ideas / forcing them to be proof readers. You are all the best. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed! c:


End file.
